The Golden Mirror
The train was a metal leviathan, groaning under the weight of its own history, and it carried Elias Thorne back into a world that had forgotten how to look at him without flinching. He sat in the corner of the second-class carriage, his hands resting on his knees, fingers interlaced so tightly the knuckles turned white. For three years, Elias had been the invisible man, a ghost haunting the...
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